


Bargains, Trades, Negotiations

by Apocrypha



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Retro X-Men - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apocrypha/pseuds/Apocrypha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illyanna doesn't really understand human rules.  Being raised by demons will do that to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bargains, Trades, Negotiations

"Trade you a blowjob for a foot massage," Illyanna said as she flopped onto the couch.

Logan turned his head a fraction of an inch and looked at her out of the corner of his eye before changing his position and setting down his beer.  For the most part however, his eyes didn't leave the television screen.  "Nice try, kiddo.  How 'bout I rub your feet, and take a rain check on the other." 

It wasn't really a question, and Illyanna wasn't surprised, but she was irritated.  Despite his refusals, she'd kept making him offers partly as a joke and partly on the off chance he might one day agree to something.  So very little of her irritation had to do with Logan, but he was here, and he did a good job of putting up with her shit when it came out in the open.  She grabbed a small pillow off the back of the couch and pushed it under her head while he stripped off her socks and started to work on her feet.

"I'm not a kid, you know," she was trying for a nonchalant tone, but suspected it bordered too close to 'peevish'.  Well, she'd earned it -- it'd been a tough day, in demon-herding terms.  Being the ruler of your own dimensional pocket of hell was rarely simple and never fun.  Logan's lips barely turned up, but she caught it.  "I'm _not_ , damnit.  Time does funny things when you start playing inter-dimensional games.  I was there a long time.  I'm not any more a twenty year-old than you are forty."

"Course not," he answered, leaving her assumption unanswered as he always did when she made guesses about his age or background.

Across the room, a poorly-lit football game in faded colors played on the television.  Illyanna had spent a goodly amount of time trying to understand the concept of the 'classic sports channel' but had finally resigned herself to not getting it.  It was one of those things humans did that simply made no sense and wasted time.  Why watch a game when you already knew the score?  It was worse than being told to lie 'for politeness sake' when a woman asked if a dress made her ass look fat.  If you have to ask...

At least when demons lie, they have a reason to, Illyanna often thought.  Demons always had a reason for everything they did.  It made things simple, really.  Whatever one wanted, it was usually a mere matter of finding the price.  It was _always_ a matter of finding the price.

Logan was stubborn and annoying and there were days just looking at him pissed her off, but there was no arguing that he gave the best foot massages ever.  And Illyanna was including the guy from the bar in France with the tentacles.  After all, the equipment doesn't matter much if you don't know how to use it.  She was certain Logan used all his equipment quite well -- it was something in the way he moved and smiled. 

Illyanna watched Logan.  Logan watched his game.  Illyanna had more patience than anyone gave her credit for, but she wasn't going to let Logan use his rules; that's how he always won. 

"Can we at least talk about this?"

"Talk about what?"

"About why it is that you keep turning me down?  I mean, seriously, what is it?  Is it Peter?  Because I can keep a secret from Peter, honest."

"Don't doubt it a bit."  She waited for him to continue, but he didn't.  Instead he put down her right foot, took a drink of beer, and picked up her left.

She couldn't help but groan as his strong fingers worked their way into the cramp in her arch.  She'd spent most of the day -- well, several months in her own dimension -- as Darkchylde, and the switch back to human form always made walking a bitch.  She never could tell why it hurt her feet so badly, something to do with the transition back from hooves.  Logan smiled at the sound, and she let herself relax into his touch.

Someone ten years past scored a touchdown, and through the marvel of obsessive television network executives, Illyanna got to watch it.  Logan seemed to be pleased by the score, but she never could keep track of people's teams.  She gave him a moment to enjoy the game and let her feet be happy before speaking again.

"So is it Kitty?  You think she'd be upset?  I can keep it from her, too, if you want.  We don't tell each other everything after all.  The truth is, Logan, I don't tell anyone everything, even you."

"Never thought you did."

Again, she waited for elaboration, and again there was none.  She gave a sigh of exasperation.

"And it's not like I'm all that innocent, you know.  Do you have any idea how long virginity lasts in hell?  You're not protecting me from anything."

There was the slightest falter from the hands on her foot, the smallest of frowns.  Logan wasn't happy with the comment.  Well, fine.  She wasn't happy either.  She was tired and grumpy, disappointed and frustrated, and on top of all that, horny.  There were demons she could play with, but the only ones she trusted for that kind of play were the lowest order of minions.  There were humans she could get in bars, but there was always the chance she'd pick up an AML member or get spotted by a member of the Hellfire court who wanted a score to pad his reputation.

Though right now, blasting her way through a few dozen enemies sounded like fun... except on this dimension she had Scott and his damned 'no kill' rule, so no -- not fun.

Besides, what she really wanted was someone she knew and trusted.  Someone she didn't have to lie to.  She glared at Logan; he stared impassively at the screen while his fingers worked on her ankle.  The silence was deeper than it had been, Logan more removed.

Her feet felt better, but her mood was worse.  It made her petty.  "So what is it?  Are you holding out for a better offer?"  The silence was stony.  What had he turned down last time?  A week in the Bahamas?  "How 'bout a new bike?  I can get you a better one than Scott has."

He finished with the left foot, set it down, and picked up his beer.  The conversation was more than over, and she'd lost her temper -- again.  Illyanna swung her legs to the floor and began to walk to the door, but she'd only moved a few steps when Logan's quiet voice stopped her.

"See ya, kid."

She'd promised herself there wouldn't be any more shape-shifting in the mansion after the witch-hunt that happened last time.  She'd been too long off-dimension, though, too embroiled in demonic politics, too... Darkchylde for too long and now she was in far too foul a mood.

Illyanna spun in place, energy coming to her hands by emotion rather than will, and she felt the burn as her skin reddened and hardened.  From experience, she knew her eyes were already solid black.  Logan looked up at her, but his expression never changed.  She almost thought she'd like to see him flinch a little, but she knew better.  Logan never flinched even when he was afraid, and in any case, he wasn't afraid of her.  She didn't want him to be, not really, but still...

"That is the last time you are going to call me that.  Whatever you think of me, you can at least try and show a little respect."

Logan's eyes met hers and she was suddenly surprised to recognize a quiet sadness in them.  "And whatever you think of _me_ , Illyanna, you can at least try and not make every offer into a bartering contract.  There are a few things I don't buy _or_ sell."

Faded cheerleaders broke into a bouncy cheer and shook their pom-poms as the score changed yet again.  Human rules, human rituals.  Demons always trade, always spell out the terms in advance. 

Humans trust.

There were things she still had to learn.

 

***fin***


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